Benton and the Wonderful lamp
by HollyC
Summary: A reworking of Aladin. Benton finds a lamp and a ring, meets a genie and falls in love.
1. Default Chapter

Benton and the Wonderful Lamp

(An Ingenie-ous story of an ingenie-ous mountie)

Long ago and far away in an arctic country there dwelt a simple living youth who was blessed with the gifts of generosity, kindness, loyalty, politeness and wisdom. He was also extremely handsome. Living with his grandparents on the edge of the tundra, he was often alone but not lonely. He read books from his grandparents' Travelling Library, spent time with the hens and huskies and roamed the tundra observing the lemmings, siksiks, whales, foxes, seals and wolves. He knew the difference between a caribou and a fox track and could identify all the types of berries that ripened in the fall: paurngait, kablait, kingmiignait. He knew their names and could pronounce them well. He enjoyed the sounds as he rolled the odd combination of vowels and consonants around in his mouth. He loved to fish for arctic Char with his kakivaak in the icy water.

His childhood passed mostly without incident apart from when, at age six, his mother mysteriously died.

Our young hero loved reading, and he loved to dream. Each Spring, as he watched the caribou migrate to the calving grounds, he would dream of the warm south and the wonders there. During the long arctic nights his favourite book to read by the fire was about the Mounted Police Force. His father was a mountie but he rarely saw him. He longed for the time when he too could join the force and follow in the footsteps of the father he admired. To that end he studied hard and diligently; learnt CPR, gained a St John Ambulance certificate and took a typing course by correspondance until he was accepted as a cadet in Regina.

This noble youth could not contain his excitement and as the time for his departure neared he frantically searched the cabin in which he lived for articles of his father's uniform. He was rewarded when his grandma located an old worn Sam Browne belt which the cadet to be polished lovingly with wax, buffing up the buckles till they gleamed. The young man squinted at his reflection and grinned. Life could only get better. He might even receive a posting near his father when his training was over.

The evening before he was due to leave he had a sleepless night, which for this active youth, was rare. He was beginning to have misgivings. Although he was excited, he was also anxious about the changes he would face going to live in a city after spending so long in small places like Inuvik, Alert and Tuktoyuktuk. Would his experiences in the wilds of the northern territories be adequate preparation for life in law enforcement in Regina ? He had studied the map; Sasketchewan seemed so far away from all that was familiar to him.

It was late evening when the youth stepped down from the train carriage in Regina, his backpack hanging with all his personal belongings. He was overwhelmed by the number of people, many of them were young men and women about to embark on an exciting career.

He paused on the platform to breathe in the warm air. This was going to be his home for the next 26 weeks. As he jostled his way out of the station an older man bumped into him, then grabbed him by the shoulders and exclaimed, " It's you...what are you doing in Regina ? Oh, I expect you do not recognise your great uncle Jacob. I have been travelling throughout the east for many years. Have you time for a chat? Tell me how are your grandparents ?"

Taken aback the young man was dumbstruck. He did not recognise the man at all and it was minutes before he found his voice. He tried to shrug off the man's grip as he answered, " I'm sorry I don't remember you. My grandfather passed away 3 years ago but my grandmother is very well. I am about to commence cadet training for the RCMP."

At this the old man's grey eyes lit up. " A mountie eh, very useful. Indeed. You probably want to get settled in now so meet me on Saturday at the Welcome Bar, 2pm. The address is on the card- we can talk more of family then."

With that he shoved a small card into the youth's pocket and disappeared into the crowd before he could thank him. He shook his head, city people were very strange, and he had never heard his grandparents mention a relative named Jacob.

The young cadet settled in well to the disciplined academy life and, although he found it different to life in the far north, he enjoyed the rigorous physical training, the lectures, the role playing and the debates. It all served to stretch him, emotionally, physically and intellectually. He was a personable character and made friends quickly with a couple of other cadets from the Territories. His first Saturday found him at 2pm fulfilling his promise to meet his great uncle. He was cautious about this meeting, he was unsure what to expect. He had mentioned the man in a letter to his grandmother but had yet to receive a reply.

Jacob was already seated in the cafe sipping at a strong espresso coffee. His great nephew ordered tea and sat opposite waiting for the older man to speak first.

"I expect you are finding the city strange and crowded."

The young man nodded his reply.

"Then I will take you on a tour and show you the wonders of modern living as soon as you finish your drink. "

And so they sat in silence until Jacob paid the bill and they left. He guided him through the city, pointing out stores and food outlets, bars, night clubs, used car lots, parking lots; all places the northerner had rarely seen . The cadet was awed by all he saw. They visited galleries, museums, even the library. All the while Jacob chatted as if to a favourite nephew so much the youth barely had chance to make any contribution. Gradually Jacob led his nephew into the suburbs pointing out the oddities of modern day living; trailers, carefully tended yards, recycling cans.

Before long they were out in the countryside and on the edge of the forest. The cadet hesitated a little, puzzled, but Jacob encouraged him, "I want to show you something wondrous. Gather some sticks for a fire, boy"

Bentondid as he was bid, albeit reluctantly, then crouched by the blazing fire to hear what the old man had to say. Jacob threw some powder onto the flames, "Watch." He muttered in a language the youth, who was conversant in Inuit dialects as well as Cantonese, English and French, did not recognise. Suddenly the earth shook and a gaping chasm opened close by. The nephew gasped in alarm; was he dreaming, or was it an earthquake ? Surely Sasketchewan was not on a fault line. The opening revealed a large stone and inset in it was a large brass ring. "Pull up the stone until you see some steps then descend as far as the door. On the other side of the door you will find a beautiful Palace. Pass through the first three halls until in the fourth you see a lamp hanging in the corner. Bring the lamp to me." He paused to give him a small ring. "Wear this to keep you from harm; it is a family heirloom." He slipped the ring onto the cadet's finger.

The young man was curious, none of the books he had ever read had prepared him for this sort of occurence. Urban life was certainly promising to be very different from his isolated chilhood. His grandmother in her pep talks had never mentioned hidden palaces and stones under the ground. He shrugged and grasped the ring in the stone tightly.

The long stone staircase appeared as expected and he cautiously descended. He then followed the long dimly lit corridor into a hallway full of treasures; rubies, sapphires, emeralds. Never having been interested in material wealth he carried on through to a second hall filled with gold and silver. This too he passed through without a moment's hesitation until in the third hall he gasped at the sight of a hundred shelves filled with books of a thousand cultures. His eyes widened in pleasure at the sight. Here was knowledge beyond his wildest dreams. More books than he could read in his lifetime. He picked one leather bound volume off the first shelf and lowering himself to the dusty floor began to read, "I began my travels, where I purpose to end them, viz. at the city of London..."

Time passed unoticed so absorbed was he in Daniel Defoe's travels, he forgot the command of his uncle to find the lamp.

Outside Jacob was waiting impatiently, what was the boy doing in there ? He called loudly for some minutes until on seeing the top of the youth's head he called, "Give me the lamp now." The younger man was more astute than one might at first suspect having noticed the avaricious glint in Jacob's eyes.

"It is fastened to my belt. Wait till I'm out of here." He was so weighted down with books that he was having difficulty climbing the stairs.

Jacob flew into a rage and shouted even louder, "Boy, give me the lamp, now !" But the cadet was so busy struggling with his load of books he could not obey.

The old man was furious, he threw a handful of powder onto the still burning fire and intoned some mysterious words. The cadet looked up from his position on the staircase to see the exit from the cave slowly closing. He dropped the books and ran the remaining few steps to the top and attempted to push himself through the crack. He was not strong enough, it was useless. He sank to the ground and suppressed a feeling of panic. This was no worse than when he and Innussiq were trapped in a bear cave for two days. Of course then they had with them water and pemmican and the company of each other. It had been quite an exciting adventure. This time he was alone and, he searched his pockets, no supplies worth noting, just his compass, a present from his grandma, and the tuning fork his mother had left him. Maybe there was another way out.

With this thought to cheer him, the cadet leapt up from where he had been slumped against the wall and took the stairs three at a time until he was at the door of the palace. His heart sank at the discovery that the door was shut. He was a prisoner.

He sat down again and rested his head in his hands as he replayed all the survival techniques he had ever read about through his mind. None seemed applicable to this situation. Perhaps the old man would relent and send someone to release him. He shook his head at the unlikelihood of this possibility. Why had the old man done this to him, especially as he had shown such kindness in giving him a ring?

As these thoughts passed through his head he unconsciously rubbed the gold ring on his finger. There was a flash of light which temporarily blinded him. When his vision finally cleared he saw before him the strangest creature. It was perhaps, five metres tall, (the boy could not be precise as the apparition was hovering in the air) had the build of a sumo wrestler, was completely hairless and magnificently bejewelled. The monster seemed as bemused as he was. It looked around the cave then turned its gaze downwards to where our hero looked up with confidence.  
" I am the slave of the ring," it intoned melodiously. "Whatever you bid, I will obey."

The cadet could hardly believe his luck. He pinched himself sharply to make sure he was still awake. Yes, all this was real enough. Running a tongue along his dry lips he slowly replied, "Take me out of here, back to the woods, please...sir."

The huge man lifted him up very gently and flew up through the stonework to where he deposited him on the grassy floor close to where the stone had been and where the fire had died to a warm glowing mound of embers. Straightening his uniform the youth turned to kindly thank his benefactor only to discover he had silently vanished. He would have dismissed it all as a remarkable dream were it not for the small old lamp hanging from his belt and the gold ring still on his finger.

He made his way back to the city through the dark and quiet streets until he reached his barracks just before dawn. Sliding exhausted into his small Mountie bed he fell asleep without even having the strength to remove his clothes. The following Monday he was unsurprised to learn in a letter from his grandmother that there had never been anyone in the family called Jacob.

It was many years later that Benton Fraser RCMP had cause to recall the strange occurences of his first week as a Cadet. He still had the lamp, it went with him on every posting. The ring he had buried outside his father's cabin, judging it far too dangerous an item to have around. He kept the lamp as a memory of a strange event, lest it should fade into a dream..

As he had grown older he had become accustomed to the unusual, he often saw things others couldn't, hear things not audible to the ears of his fellow Mounties. And, he was also aware that he could jump further, climb higher, fall greater distances, survive lower temperatures, hold his breath longer than any one else he knew. Activities that could seriously maim or kill other men left him unharmed. He seemed to lead a charmed existence.

Charmed that is in all areas except personal relationships with women. His one serious love affair had ended in a complete disaster. He frequently wished for better judgement in his choice of women. Somewhere, he felt, there was a woman he could love cherish and trust without being hurt, but he was afraid to get involved. Victoria had done that to him, damaged him, possibly beyond repair.

So here he was in his mid thirties standing guard outside the Canadian Consulate in Chicago, no family, exiled from his homeland and only one true friend in the world apart from his wolf, contemplating the loneliness of his existence, and at last, questioning it too. His mind wandered (as it often seemed to these days when he was standing stiffly at attention trying to ignore the stares of tourists, or the unwanted attention of Chicago's youngest generation) to his superior officer, Margaret Thatcher.

She puzzled him. She set him the most demeaning tasks imaginable yet he was unable to resent her. He had noticed that if he stared very hard into her beautiful eyes she would look away, and he was frequently catching her in the act of whipping her glasses off her nose. Very strange behaviour indeed. He was aware that there was an attraction but was unsure if she would return his affections. He was finding it very difficult to fathom the motivations of women. Of this one woman.

His one attempt to ask his father's advice had been fruitless, Fraser senior had even less experience than his son. Even his relationship with Caroline had been odd. As Benton had recently discovered, his father had often slept with the dogs.

Maybe he should try and get to know her better. Ask her out for a meal. No he couldn't do that. Since his appartment had burnt down he had been living at the Consulate and the cooking facilities therein were less than adequate. Maybe he could take her to a picture show? No, he shrugged then rubbed his finger along his eyebrow, an idiosyncrasy of his adopted whenever anything puzzled him. How could he get closer to this woman? In the absence of fatherly advice who could he turn to? Certainly not Ray who just pined after his ex wife and whose chat up lines left a lot to be desired too.

He let his mind wander, to a tree opposite which was in blossom, an acer negundo, if he was not mistaken. There was a bird visible in the branches, possibly a sparrow hopping from twig to twig. How Benton envied that bird its uncomplicated life. What decisions did birds have to make ? They never felt loneliness; the need for companionship did not figure in sparrow psychology. He sighed, you're getting maudlin, Benton. Count your blessings. One; good health. Two; a fulfilling career.Three;...three, an old lamp on the window ledge.

Now why did he think of that lamp after all this time? One of the few things he had managed to rescue from the embers of his immolated former home had been that lamp. It was battered and tarnished and dulled by smoke and flames but he had resisted polishing it for fear of conjuring the genie. He had done that accidently soon after he had acquired it and had felt compelled to wish for something, anything to soothe the doleful look on the genie's face when it had witnessed its new master. If he remembered correctly, the creature had wept when Benton told it he had no desires. To appease it he had wished to be the best of the Mounted: strong, honest and valiant. He recalled now that the genie had told him that whenever he wore the Mountie's Stetson he would be invulnerable and would be able to fulfil his Mountie duties in an unparallelled manner. Why had he forgotten that until now? The price he had paid for that protection had been to live a life of loneliness. Worse still, he had only just realised that he was lonely. If he wasn't careful he was going to be the last of a breed in several ways.

Resolution gripped Benton with an implacable hand and would not let go. He had made up his mind. He would march up to her office, walk confidently in and invite her out to a restaurant of her choosing. He could do this. He was a Mountie. The chiming of the church bell interrupted his thoughts, his shift was at an end. Was his resolution beginning to falter ?

He entered the building and climbed the stairs. They seemed high to Benton who had also become aware of a coldness in his stomach. He was unable to locate the source of his fear as he stood trembling outside her door. Why was this so difficult? She was only a woman after all, he had faced worse especially since teaming up with Ray. Yes, that was it, she was a woman and she was his superior officer too. He let his hand fall from the doorknob and turned back to his own room. He was disappointed in himself, he felt he had let himself down. This was a time to seek out his father. Benton hoped the elder mountie would be there in the tardis like extension to his room, and thankfully he was.

"Try the lamp son "

"Dad, what on earth do you mean ?"

"I mean get that genie to give you a more... " Fraser Senior waved a hand as he searched for a tactful word,"winning way with women. Rub the lamp!"

With that he returned to the books he referred to as his "accounts" though Benton had yet to figure out what need a dead mountie had of money. If his father was to be believed, the afterlife was certainly nothing like any of the major religions would have us think.

Fraser picked up the lamp from its resting place against the window. He studied it for a moment as he tried to put off the inevitable. He was not used to stalling, he would have to just do it, rub the thing and get it over with, like pulling off a band aid from a sensitive area. He shuddered as he gave the dull metal a tentative rub. It was just as horrendous an experience as he'd anticipated. A huge puff of acrid smoke errupted from the spout sending Benton into a coughing spasm as his pristine lungs tried to cope with the polluted air. His eyes watered and the momentary blindness he suffered as a result of the blinding flash of white light that followed was a mercy. It meant that the Mountie was spared the repulsive sight of a huge genie squeezing itself clumsily out of the narrow confines of its prison. He was also coughing too much to notice the sickening moans and groans issuing from the creature's distorted mouth. By the time Fraser's vision and lungs had cleared the genie had regained a respectable appearance and was straightening its crumpled clothes as best it could under the circumstances.

It raised a massive ringed jewelled hand to its mouth, cleared its throat, and began in a sonorous voice its well rehearsed recitation.

"IamthegenieofthelampIamyourslaveandwilldoanythingyoubidmaster."

With that he whisked off a feathered turban and bowed very low. Benton was too stunned to answer straight away so the genie raised its head from its respectful bow and waited expectantly for its master's command. Its master was suffering from a blank mind at that moment. When his power of speech returned several moments later, Benton replied. "I would like to have a ..." how had his father put it? "A winning way with women. Well with Margaret really. Yes, just with her, with Margaret."

"Is that all ?" boomed the genie, disappointed.

"Yes, thankyou kindly...er...sir."

"You are really not experienced at this master thing are you?" Impossible as it may seem the genie's voice had got even louder. Benton put his hands over his ears, fearing a migraine.

"Understood." he replied not knowing what else to say. The genie was obviously disappointed in him.

Again.

"No wealth beyond your wildest dreams? No harem of gorgeous princesses? No emerald clad palaces? No magic carpet? No huge tables groaning under the weight of a banquet so vast it could feed a small African nation for six years?"

Fraser shook his head and wished the genie would give him the winning ways and get back in its lamp.

"Your wish is my command...master."

Benton was sure that last word had been said in a disdainful tone. Nevertheless he thanked the genie kindly once more as it diminished in size and returned through the spout into the lamp.

Fraser took a deep breath and tugged his uniform into place. He looked in a mirror to check there were no hairs out of place and straightened his Sam Browne Belt. "Do I feel different?" He asked himself as he searched his drawers for some cologne. When would these "winning ways" manifest themselves? And how would he recognise them when they did?

He shrugged carelessly.

Who cares? I have to talk to Margaret. I have to make her an offer she cannot refuse.

"Come in," Margaret responded in her usual gruff manner to the strong knock at her door. She did not look up from her paper work as the visitor entered. "Yes?" she welcomed in a sharp tone.

"Sir," a confident deep voice replied compelling her to drop the pen, whip off her glasses and look up into the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen on any human being. She cleared her throat aware that she was reddening.

Before she could get in a barbed retort he continued, "I am aware that there is an attraction between us which I am sure has not gone unnoticed by you. So I am asking you to accompany me to dinner this evening at a restaurant of your choice. We can share the cost if you wish. I am quite happy to phone round a few restaurants to get samples of their menus if you would prefer."

Margaret was unable to repress a snicker. What had come over the tongue tied mountie? The man who could not hold a coherent conversation with any woman who made a pass at him? She sobered up as she remembered that she had waited for this moment for months. As his superior officer she had felt unable to make the first move. It had become a stand off. He was too shy to make the first move himself and so their relationship had stagnated. Who was she kidding, there was no relationship. And now this.

"Sir?" his voice begged a response. "Should I book a table for eight pm ?"

There was only one answer and she gave it. "Yes, Constable. Eight will be fine and I leave the choice to you."

Still totally bemused she watched as he gave her a jaunty salute, turned on his heel and marched to the door where he paused to give her a parting shot: "By the way, although Dorothy Parker maintained that men don't make passes at girls who wear glasses, believe me, yours only add to your allure." With that he closed the door with a flourish.

Margaret stared down at the articles in question and realised that she had twisted them into a mangled piece of metal. He really liked her glasses? She hoped she could find her spare pair at home. Too stunned to continue her work she merely sat for twenty minutes lost in thought. Had the Mountie really asked her out on a date? What had come over him? What on earth was she going to wear?

Despite her fears that Benton would become tongue tied at the meal or that the evening would in some way turn into an utter disaster, Margaret found herself having a wonderful time. Fraser was witty, charming, attentive and even flirtatious. The man truly had hidden depths. As the meal progressed they relaxed in each others company till by dessert they were content to remain silent and just gaze into each others eyes and wonder. She even managed to forget that he was her inferior for long enough to share a tender goodnight kiss when he walked her to her door. Watching him go was difficult, she only just managed to resist calling to his retreating back,"Don't go, stay with me." But years of training were too hard to overcome and so she went to bed alone.

As we are told, the path of true love does not run smooth, but for Benton and Margaret the first hurdle had been overcome and they came to care even more about each other. Margaret was continually amazed at Fraser's new found confidence. She even managed to persuade him to move in with her though she could not stop him from sleeping in his bedroll on the floor. He found her luxurious water bed far too soft and warm. Loathe though she was to admit it, the red long johns really suited him. She could almost consider getting some for herself. She also had to accommodate Diefenbaker in her house but considered that a small sacrifice. After all she had gained the most desirable man in Chicago. That was worth the dog hairs, the lupine smell and the early morning runs. In fact she was amazed at how easily she managed to fit her schedule around them both. If one thing marred her happiness it was the regret that they had not followed their instincts sooner. Through pride and foolishness they had lost valuable time in each other's company and her biological clock was ticking faster every day.

The days passed blissfully into weeks for the two lovers, they were inseperable. On guard duty Benton thought only of Meg, impatiently counting the seconds until his shift ended. Margaret spent too much time at her window, trying to get a glimpse of red serge. When the pressure got too bad she would invent an errand for herself so that she could leave the building and just stand and admire her beloved tall, black haired, well proportioned Mountie.

The weeks turned into months and Margaret found herself pregnant, Benton was delighted. Their happiness complete, life just could not get better.

However it could get worse.


	2. Part 2

Constable Turnbull was standing guard duty outside the new Consulate. It had not yet occurred to him that over the past 6 months his guard duties had increased quite significantly. In fact all of his duties had increased as The Inspector had passed a lot of Fraser's menial tasks on to Turnbull allowing her favourite Mountie more time to spend helping her with hers. He hummed to himself tunelessly as the blankness in his mind extended itself into a greater area of nothingness. Life for Turnbull was incredibly simple, operating, as he did at the level of aaphasic seven year old. However, on this day it was going to take a dramatic turn.

Jacob had finally tracked Benton Fraser to Chicago. After the episode at Regina he had fled back to the east and toured Asia for a while, taking the Katmandoo trail, climbing the Himalayas, walking the Great Wall of China, visiting the Dali Lama then onto India to see the Taj Mahal. For most people these experiences would help them develop spiritually. Jacob, however, had sunk far too deep into the pit of avarice to ever be redeemed by pilgrimages and areas of outstanding natural beauty.

As he travelled, his grudge against his ersatz great nephew festered like a picked scab. Had he really perished in the underground cave? The old man had to find out for sure, because if Benton had escaped he would be in possession of one of the greatest treasures in the world. And by rights, that lamp and all it promised, should belong to him, not to some simple Mountie from the arctic wilderness, a nobody from nowhere. A boy like that had no imagination, no idea how to use such a gift.

Jacob extrapolated further: if the boy had escaped then he couldn't possibly have discovered the secret of the lamp. Wherever he travelled, Jacob always searched out the financial papers and as yet Fraser's name had not appeared in the list of the world's hundred richest men.

So Jacob returned to Canada after seventeen years, looked up the records at the Library in Regina, traced Benton's first posting, then from there by way of newspaper articles about Gerard discovered that his nephew was exiled in Chicago. Alone and vulnerable. A perfect opportunity for the perfect plan. After checking in at a hotel close to the Consulate he visited all the flea markets and antique shops in the city and bought up all the old lamps. He polished them up till they gleamed like new then placed them all in a large sports holdall. He was a patient man and knew that it could take several days for his plan to unfold.

Each morning and each afternoon he walked past the Consulate chanting, "New lamps for old, new lamps for old."

Small children would halt their game of aiming spitballs at the Mountie's buttons to cluster round him and jeer. Tourists would stop photographing the Mountie and ask to photograph him instead. On one occasion he was even asked to stand with the Mountie for the perfect photo opportunity. And for Jacob, opportune indeed, in that it gave him the chance to determine if this fellow was the Mountie he sought. He was disappointed to discover that it was not Fraser who stood guard every day, this meant that he must be inside the Consulate and possibly unable to hear him.

Turnbull, however, after four days of hearing the phrase, "new lamps for old," recalled in a moment of uncharacteristic lucidity, that there rested on the Consulate window sill a very old dirty tarnished lamp. He believed it belonged to Fraser who was in the Yukon on a brief exchange visit. It struck him that he would be doing the Constable a great favour if he swapped the old lamp for a nice shiny new one. Turnbull smiled at the thought. Any thought was a rare delight for him. As soon as his shift ended he called to the old peddlar who had for some ten minutes been trying to disengage himself from a group of youths who wanted his Sport's Holdall because it had a designer insignia on the side of it.

"Excuse me, sir." Turnbull said as the youths fled clutching the bag and leaving a trail of dented lamps in their wake. "There is a rusty old lamp in the Consulate. You can have that if you give me a new one. "

Jacob almost did a celebratory dance so pleased was he to hear this. "Well hurry up boy, get it."

Jacob busied himself picking up the lamps and sorting through them for one in decent condition. He was so excited his hands shook and his fingers could hardly grip. He sat on the edge of the curb and contemplated his first wish. After considering several options he decided, maliciously, that his first wish would be to ruin Fraser by undoing the Mountie's wishes. That would teach the boy to disobey him. Ah, revenge was going to be so sweet. He shook his head and smiled at the thought. Turnbull returned with the lamp in record time.

"Here it is," he panted, breathless through his exertions, "Fraser will be so pleased with me when he gets back."

The old man was not listening, he grabbed the lamp, threw a newer one at Turnbull and hastened back to his hotel room. Turnbull stood on the deserted sidewalk clutching the shiny lamp, a vacant look on his face. Then he turned on his heel and returned to the interior of the Consulate unaware of the consequences of his foolish actions.

A week after Jacob had left Chicago for a life of wealth and fame beyond his wildest dreams, Benton returned to Chicago from his successful exchange in the north where he had helped bust a fraudulent used skidoo sales team. He went straight by foot to the apartment he now shared with Margaret, a spring in his step. He was looking forward to seeing how well developed her bump would be now, he wanted to feel the wriggling baby as he pressed his hand over her womb. He would play it a Stan Rogers tape he had picked up in Canada. Music was instrumental in forming strong brain cell patterns in the unborn and what better than a good stirring sea shanty or two. His favourite was Barrett's Privateers. It reminded him of a romantic moment on the Bounty replica when time had stood still and he had shared a most tender kiss with his Margaret. His Margaret. How he had missed her; each night away he had fallen asleep feeling her absence acutely. The Yukon had never before felt so cold to him. He was accustomed to being alone, he had never sought to live with others, but he did enjoy company as he was not really a loner by nature. He used to really enjoy his meals at Ray Vecchio's house, the loving, noisy Italian family. He always felt alive with them, they had shown him the rewards of being part of a close family. They had such a vibrancy generated by family ties. He still missed Ray very much.

Now he had felt for himself the true rewards of companionship with Ray, with Stan and with Meg he was loathe to give them up and return to that solitary existence he had led for so long. After the "affair" with the bounty hunter he had realised that he needed to share his life with a special person, someone who could give him children, someone who would love him and whom he could love. Someone who would keep the loneliness at bay.

This relationship with the Inspector was wonderful, he could hardly believe his luck, he loved her with all of his big Mountie heart. He loved her with a capacity he never realised he had. And the best thing about his life at the moment was that she loved him.

Whistling the shanty loudly he ran up the steps two at a time and opened the apartment door, "Meg, I'm back."

He was greeted by Dief bounding up to him, almost knocking him over in lupine enthusiasm. Benton rubbed the wolf behind its ears, "Hey, boy, did you miss me?" But his mind was not on Diefenbaker, he looked down the hallway searching for his love,  
"Margaret? Meg?" he called again.

There was silence in the appartment apart from the panting of the wolf. Why was she not here to greet him? Had something happened? He felt cold, a shiver ran through him. Had something happened to the baby? He shrugged out of his rucksack and ran to the bedroom. He peered cautiously round the door, the room was empty. Benton frowned, he was aware now of a growing sense of unease. She promised him she would be home when he last talked to her on the phone. That was four days ago. A lot could happen in four days.

He picked up the phone and dialled her cellphone, and let out the breath he had been holding when she answered it with a terse, "Yes?"

"Margaret, where are you, I have been so worried, are you all right ?" Her tone when she answered was hard. "Constable, yes, I am fine, thankyou. I am at the consulate, working. I expect to see you here this afternoon ready to work your shift."

Taken aback at her remote attitude, Fraser could only reply,"Yes Sir," and stare at the receiver as the line went dead. Again he felt a cold shiver cross his spine. Something was wrong. He crouched down next to the ever loyal Diefenbaker, "Hey, Dief, do you know what is going on?"

Benton stood up, stretched and stifled a yawn, it had been a long journey and he had slept badly, now she expected him to go to work. Hadn't they agreed to spend this afternoon together, relaxing at home? She ought to be taking it easy at this stage of her pregnancy. He put his Stan Rogers tape on the player and sang along with it as he unpacked. He always found singing therapeutic and by the time he had changed into his brown uniform he felt a little less worried. When Fraser arrived at the Consulate at 12.58pm his uneasiness returned. In fact the thought of facing the Inspector was causing him a great deal of concern. He had to wipe his hands on his trousers becuse they were so damp with sweat. Why did he feel so nervous ? It had been months since he had felt like this. In order to steel himself he sang a few bars of Barrett's Privateers. It helped, but only a little. He went straight to his own office and sat down at his desk. There was a post it note, with her bold handwriting on it.

"My office 1.15pm."

He fondled the note, she wanted him in her office. What could that mean? Perhaps his father could help. Sure, he hadn't been much help last time, but it was worth a try. If nothing else it would make the next fifteen minutes pass less miserably.

"Hello, son," Fraser Senior greeted him. He was wearing a parka, complete with furry hood, thick trousers, boots and snow shoes.

"Dad, it's 30 degrees outside, can't you feel the heat ?"

"Is it son? You feel the cold more when you get older."

"But you aren't getting older, you are dead." Why was his father so exasperating? "Besides I want to talk about my problems, not yours. Do things seem different ?"

"Oh most definitely. But I would put it all down to global warming."

Benton folded his arms and scowled at his father's apparition. These conversations were becoming more and more bizarre. Was it some feature of the afterlife that any sense you might once have had slowly dissipates?

He waved a hand at Fraser Senior. "As usual you are making no sense whatsoever. I don't know why I ever bother trying to hold a coherent conversation with you. I have serious concerns here and all you can talk about is the weather."

Benton left the closet and tried to calm himself. He sat down in his chair, consulted his father's watch, five minutes to go, and began his mantra, "I am a Mountie, I can do this. " He repeated it fifty times then took a deep breath and went to Margaret's, the Inspector's door. Five minutes later he was sitting in his chair again, head in hands conscious that things had gone very badly indeed. He had been totally unable to talk to her, he had stammered and stuttered and had heard hardly anything she had said apart from, "dismissed," to which he had automatically replied, "Understood." Then he had fled to his room. He felt like his world had come to an end. He had lost her.

At the end of his shift he would collect his belongings and Dief from her home and move back into the Consulate. His father was here, he wouldn't be that much alone. But it wasn't home, Meg's apartment was home. Yet, he couldn't stay there any more, he couldn't even talk to her, how could he be expected to share a bed with her? Life had been going so well, why had things changed? Why had he changed? Why had hope died?

He wasn't very much aware of time passing, he just stared unfocussed at his door until his body clock told him his shift had ended. He removed his Stetson from its hook, stared at it a moment before placing it on his head with a sigh. He would just devote himself to his Mountie duties since he obviously was not meant to find happiness with women.

Meg sat in her office totally bemused. She had had quite an exhausting week, been called into the Consulate on an emergency despite a resolution to take it easy. She could feel her hormones raging, her legs ached and the baby was practising trampolining off her diaphragm with upsetting regularity. She had not been able to get comfortable in bed since Benton had gone away. She'd got used to him rubbing her back to relax her into sleep- he had a wonderful touch and knew exactly which muscles to work. Without him life was miserable. He had stopped her feeling unglamorous as the baby took away her trim figure, with his constant reassurances and professions of love.

So what had gone wrong ?

This morning she had been excited at his return. Yet for some reason she had felt compelled to come into work today even though they had intended to relax at home together. Then she had lost her temper with him over the phone, well that could be a pregnancy mood swing. Now he had spent five minutes in her office and not said one word that made sense. Oh except for "understood" and she didn't even think that he had. Understood a word she'd said that is. In fact now she had chance to reflect she couldn't remember herself what she had said to him; she just knew now that their relationship had changed. They were no longer one. He couldn't even talk to her, how was he going to share a bed with her? Life had been going so well. What had changed? She wasn't very much aware of time passing, she just stared at the door, unfocussed until she heard him shut his door and leave the building.

She then became aware that she had been crying, a steady stream of tears. She sighed. She would just have to devote herself to her Mountie duties till the baby came. At least one good thing had come out of this doomed relationship, their son.

Margaret came home that evening to an empty apartment and a short note from Fraser telling her how sorry he was that things weren't working out, that he would support the baby when it came and if possible would attend the birth. He thanked her kindly for letting him stay with her and hoped that they could carry on as normal with their professional relationship. It was typically Benton and it made her weep. She tried to recall the moment that things had taken the wrong turn. She could not locate the word or action that had made him feel rejected by her. Before he went away they were lovers, when he returned they weren't. Her life was a disaster.

She could not even be sure if she loved him any longer, she did feel a great sense of loss. She thought she did love him, she knew she had, but she was unwilling to contact him and ask him to come back to her. Worst of all she did not know why she was feeling this way. Maybe it was her hormones. That was one convenient aspect of being pregnant; you could use hormones to explain many things.

She wandered absently through her rooms touching the table where they had eaten together, stroking the sofa where they had sat, then into the bathroom where she picked up her now solitary toothbrush and cleaned her teeth. All his toilet articles were gone; that cut throat blade he shaved with, the harsh Mountie issue soap she had never managed to wean him off, his face cloth, his towel, his robe: all gone. Leaving the bathroom, she lay down on the floor next to the bed where he had unrolled his bedroll every night. Her rooms smelt of him, they smelt of wolf too. Closing her eyes conjured up the image of a smiling Fraser in red long johns holding her hand, kissing her lips, whispering secret promises of love. And so she fell into a restless sleep on the uncomfortable floor of her lonely bedroom.

Benton Fraser unrolled his bedroll and flung himself wearily upon it. He folded his arms across his chest and stared at the ornate ceiling of his room in the consulate. Why had he left her? He seemed to be doing things automatically that in retrospect seemed ludicrous, well childish even. He ought to have stayed. After all that was his baby she was carrying and that should mean a lot to him. A family, a future for him. He recalled Janet and her three children who had slept right here a few months ago. seeing them had brought a pang of regret to his heart. The missed opportunities had pained him. He liked children, he'd wished those children were his. Soon he would be a father and he had bungled any chance to be part of a family. It did not occur to him as he lay there alone in the large official building, that he could go to her and apologise and be accepted. These decisions were out of his control. Furthermore, he was not yet aware that his charmed existence was also at risk, for Jacob (at that moment surfing in a far away Pacific sea) had not only undone his wish to have a "winning way with Margaret," but also his wish to be the "best of the Mounted: strong and valiant."

Stanley Raymond Kowalski sat at his desk at the 27th Chicago Division and twiddled his thumbs. He then put his booted feet up on the desk and crossed them at the ankles, clasped his hands around his head and leaned back yawning. How he hated paperwork. His pile of pending reports was now six inches high and he just did not know which one to tackle first. So he decided not to even make the attempt. Life in the bullpen had been a little dull since Fraser had gone to the Yukon. Even before then his visits had diminished in frequency as he had been attending Parenting classes and spending a lot of his free time with the Ice Queen. Ray couldn't find it in himself to be jealous, a little envious perhaps, but he admitted that it was about time Fraser had some luck with women. Yeah, Ray was pleased for the guy. A deep voice interrupted his thoughts,

"You know, Ray, you really shouldn't rock back on your chair like that. You could fall off. Remember 'Four legs good, two legs bad.'"

Ray was so startled that he very nearly did fall off his chair. "Fraser!" he exclaimed as he clumsily regained his balance. "You're back, then?"

"Evidently," Fraser smiled wryly.

"So how was it in the frozen north Yukon Territories"  
Ray stood as he spoke and began to walk towards the door. Fraser followed.

"Territory, Ray, and it was fine, just fine."

The sadness in his friend's voice did not escape Ray, "Well you sure don't sound fine. Let's eat and you can tell me what's bugging you."

Benton consulted his watch, "But it's not lunchtime..."

"Oh who cares, I'm outta here." Ray pushed his friend out of the building and they walked in silence to a diner.

Ray ordered for both of them and let Benton know how dull things had been in his absence, "You just seem to attract adventures, I don't know how you do it. And I was starting to miss all the excitement. "

"I'm sorry about that Ray," was all the mountie could think of to reply. "His mind was distracted. He could not stop thinking about Margaret. Ray soon realised that Fraser was not going to tell him what was wrong with him so he gave up and started to eat his fries. He was halfway through them when he noticed that his companion had neither eaten nor drunk anything and was staring past him to the street beyond the big window.

"Hey, Frase, what's the problem ? You look like you haven't slept in days, you haven't touched your food and even your hat looks crumpled-" Ray got no further for the Mountie jumped up suddenly and ran from the diner.

Ray threw some cash onto the table and followed, "Hey, what's going on?" as the adrenalin started to flow. This was what being with Fraser was all about, the surprises, the spontaneity of it all. It was thrilling, better by far than any white knuckle ride. People paid big bucks to get that feeling he got for free just by hanging out with the Mountie.

The street outside was chaotic with noise and people and the detective could not see his friend. He looked around suspiciously, a feeling of trepidation gnawed at him, something was wrong. He drew his gun, instinctively, reached into his pocket for his identification, The sounds of the people around were loud yet he could not make sense of their words. They were gathering to look at something. Ray felt his chest tighten, his throat constrict.

"No," he whispered, raising the hand with the badge and pushing himself through the tight wedge of bodies . Then louder, "Police, coming through."

His instincts were right, at the front of the crowd now he could see what the focus of attention was. On the floor a body, blue jean, plaid shirt; Fraser. "Has anyone called for help ?" He was relieved to hear an affirmative from a woman with a cellphone. Too concerned with the condition of his friend to ask what had happened, Ray crouched down and put a tentative finger to the Mounties throat. A pulse throbbed strongly. Ray let out his breath in relief. Benton opened his eyes, roused by the gentle touch.  
"Ray ?"

Kowalski smiled, "You're gonna be just fine Frase. So long as you don't move."

"I don't understand it," Fraser replied as his eyes slid shut. "That never happened before."

As the paramedics came Ray stood up and addressed the thinning crowd, "Okay, can someone tell me what happened here ?"

When Benton recovered consciousness in the hospital it was to the presence of Margaret Thatcher, sitting in a chair next to the bed dozing. He wondered how long he had been there and what sort of injuries he had sustained. He quickly checked through his body; there was not a joint that did not ache and there was a fuzziness about his head that no amount of shaking would clear. Further examination revealed a casted arm which was too painful to move and some bandages round his middle indicating bruised or broken ribs. There seemed to be no bullet holes so that was a mercy. He pulled himself painfully into sitting position and cast about for something to drink.

From his frequent hospital stays of the past he knew he could not be very seriously ill because there were no drips attached to his arms and no tubes issuing from any embarassing places either. At that moment he was unable to recall the events that had led him to being hospitalised and besides he was far too weary to think about it. One thing he did recall was that he and the Inspector had fallen out so he was surprised at her presence in this hospital room, with him. How long had she been there? He figured it must have been quite a long time for her to have fallen asleep and he wondered if it would be politic to try to awaken her.

His father's voice prevented him from reaching a decision, "Hello son, bad judgement."

Benton shook his head, "I'm sorry ?"

"Trying to push that child away from the path of that car, it was bad judgement. I've told you before, your reflexes aren't as good when you get older and neither is your eyesight."

The younger Mountie scowled and rubbed a thumb along his eyebrow, "My eyesight is just fine, after all I can see you."

"I tried to warn you," Fraser Senior continued as if his son had not spoken, "But you never listen to my good advice, oh no. You have to be a hero." "Dad, I can't remember what I did that got me in this pickle. I am more concerned about her, " He nodded in the direction of the Inspector. "She's your superior officer, son. These things aren't meant to be."

"She's having a baby. Well, our baby, that is."

"Oh, you've made me a grandfather at last," the apparition smiled inscrutably, "and what are you going to do about it ?"

Benton looked down at the bedsheets, ran his tongue along his lips and thought for a few moments before answering, "I'd really like to get married." There was no fatherly retort so he looked up into the astonished face of Margaret Thatcher who, it seemed, had chosen entirely the wrong moment to wake from her slumber. She froze in the action of ringing for a nurse. It was, in fact, the voice of Fraser talking to his father that had roused her.

"What, what did you say?" she demanded, gruffly as was her way, plumping up a pillow as a distraction.

Benton started guiltily. But looking at her tousled and ruffled as she was, he did find her very appealing and that thought brought a smile to her face. How could she frighten him any more? After what they had been to each other. That accident had brought him to his senses and made him realise that nothing in the world meant more to him than her.

The concerned look on her face belied the harshness in her voice. He looked down to the hand that unconsciously covered his own and moved his uninjured hand over to clasp it and raise it to his lips. He kissed her fingers without saying a word.

"I was...worried about you, Constable." She smiled at him. remembering a time not so very long ago when she had spoken similar words, "And I'm sorry about that silly argument. When I heard you had been hurt I thought I had lost you forever and I couldn't bear it. I hadn't realised how much you meant to me until Ray called me to tell me you were in the ER. I had not realised how much I ...loved you." The last two words were a whisper as if she were afraid to admit it. But you did not answer my question. What were you saying, before?"

Benton considered a moment, dare he say it? She had admitted her love for him possibly at great cost to her pride. He should not let pride rule his own heart. She had come to the hospital to be with him, for that he was grateful. Their relationship was not going to be a smooth one, he being the sort of person he was, self sufficient, self contained, idiosyncratic, bookish, chivalrous, all the qualities that had been instilled in him by his grandparent's. She was more gregarious but also self sufficient in her own way. And very determined, he admired that. There was an understanding between them, and a magic. he couldn't deny it. There was definitely some sort of magic.

So he came to his decision and with three magic words he dispensed with the need for wonderful lamps and grotesque genies and chose to forge his own path and his own destiny with the woman he loved.

The End


End file.
